


A Cold Waiting To Be Caught

by antstigate



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: First Meetings, Love at First Sight, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 09:59:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16038143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antstigate/pseuds/antstigate
Summary: There’s a new neighbor in the cul-de-sac, and it’s Joseph’s job to make sure they feel welcomed. If only this weird fever would go away.





	A Cold Waiting To Be Caught

**Author's Note:**

> Just one of the 18 MILLION ways I like to envision Joseph and Robert's first meeting. Pure and lighthearted. I might add to this later down the line, but for now it exists purely as a standalone.

Great. More neighbors. More people to greet, to welcome into his world, to put time and effort into to facilitate a nice, neighborly relationship, only for them to up and leave whenever this small community got too sleepy for them. It wasn’t that Joseph didn’t like meeting new people, he did, honestly. But with the houses on either side of his seeming to be prone to no one but comers and goers, it was beginning to feel like a chore. He hoped that, with an actual buyer as opposed to a renter, this would be the last person in for a while, but he could never really be sure.

Even so, he prepared a batch of cookies just for the new neighbor, placing them on a plate once they were cool enough. It was almost routine, at this point. When he thought about it, it was a good thing he liked to bake. With fresh cookies in tow, he made his way toward the front door, placing them down on a nearby table. 

He stopped in the entryway, giving himself one last look in the mirror to make sure he was presentable, “You sure you don’t want to come? They might prefer to meet all of us.”

“Let’s not overwhelm the man. He just got here,” Mary called back, not even looking up from the book she was busy with.

So no, then. Not that it was unexpected, but it’d be nice if he wasn’t the only one extending a hand every time someone new came to town. This was supposed to be a _family_ community after all. He smoothed the sides of his hair with his hands, choosing not to respond apart from pursing his lips together. Taking the plate of cookies in one hand and the doorknob in the other, he turned to give Mary a smile and a tilt of his head, letting her know he was off.

Taking a step out the front door, he paused as he closed it behind him, heaving a heavy sigh as he got himself ready to play welcome wagon. He stepped off his porch, following the sidewalk the short distance to the neighboring house. He could have cut through the grass, but technically half of it belonged to someone else now, and he didn’t yet know what kind of person he was dealing with. He wouldn’t want them to see him, come out, and beat him right there on the spot over a few flat tuffs of grass. He came to the front door of the home, giving another sigh as he prepared to knock.

He gave a few raps at the door, straightening his posture and the fabric of his shirt while he awaited a response. Waiting was always the worst part. Where was he supposed to look? Was he supposed to stare at the door until someone answered? Or maybe that seemed too expectant? And how long was he supposed to wait before trying again anyway? What if they didn’t answer the second time? You were meant to leave at that point, right? He didn’t want to seem disinterested or impatient, but knocking again seemed too demanding. Yelling for them would be even worse, he assumed.

Normally, he’d just let this bit of anxiety go, but he’d been waiting for a while now and he was getting antsy. He gave another quick knock, a bit more forceful this time just in case they hadn’t heard it the first time, and then he was stuck waiting. Again. He was sure he saw someone moving around inside earlier. And there was a truck parked in the driveway, so surely someone was in there. Maybe they were resting? Moving wasn’t exactly quick and painless, so it would have been understandable. Or what if there was an accident while they were moving something heavy and now they’re trapped inside, unable to scream for help as their larynx is crushed under the weight of it? What if they’re dead and he’s just standing there like an idiot waiting for an answer that would never—

The door’s lock made a sudden click, shocking him out of his thoughts. Joseph tried to quickly compose himself, taking in a sharp breath and trying to put on his usual friendly façade. The smile he plastered on faltered slightly, however, when the door separating him and an easy night’s sleep tonight opened only a crack. It wasn’t enough to get a good view of the person standing on the other side, but it was certainly enough to see the flat, almost glowering expression he held. 

Joseph cleared his throat after a good minute of just befuddled staring, attempting to nurture some semblance of neighborly comradery, “Hi! I’m your new neighbor. I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“Thanks.” It was short and apathetic, with only a minor change in the raise of his brows to indicate that, maybe, he did in fact actually mean that and _wasn’t_ just saying it to end this quicker. But just like that he was closing the door again. Hey, wait a minute, this wasn’t how neighbors were supposed to act!

“W-Wait!” If yelling was deemed inappropriate, it certainly was too late now. This was a happy, loving, _friendly_ community and if a bit of shouting kept it that way, so be it. At the very least it did something to get the other man’s attention, causing him to look up at Joseph again, even if the door was open even less now. “I made some cookies, if you want them. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t, but they were made with—”

The door—that awful, flimsy barrier that he’d more than happily kick in right now—opened again suddenly, just enough so that the man on the other end could stick out his arm, holding a hand out presumably for the plate. One eyebrow was raised slightly more than the other, his head turned away slightly so that he was basically side-eyeing the blond. Did he even really want these or was he just doing this so he could go back inside? What a ridiculous question. No one could resist Joseph Christiansen’s baked goods. No one.

Worth a shot. Keeping both hands on the plate and pulling it away so it was just out of reach, Joseph suggested a compromise, “No, no, you can have them after introductions and nothing less. I don’t even know your name!” He had heard one of the mover’s mention it to someone, but it escaped him at the moment and knowing each other’s names was the first part of being good neighbors.

The shut-in dropped his arm, letting it fall to his side while glaring. It was as if he was hoping his stare alone would make Joseph drop the plate and hightail it out of there, and honestly, it was almost working. Almost. With the roll of his eyes and a heavy sigh, he finally, finally gave in and just opened that blasted door. All the way, so that he was stepping out into the warm glow of the mid-afternoon sun. He glanced up towards the sun with a squint before setting them back on Joseph, “Robert.”

Joseph brought the plate back down to a more proper height involuntarily, stuck staring at the person in front of him. This was the first real look at him he had gotten—apart from the few seconds he’d seen him from the window, darting in and out of the house while the movers were helping him get situated—and he was… captivated. But why? He was nothing special: dark jeans ripped at the knees like some unabashed teenager instead of the middle-aged homeowner he was, hair a right mess with strands sticking up in all angles, the makings of a beard that looked to be unshaven more out of a lack of concern than preference. So why was he here, with his mouth nearly agape and lungs feeling as if they were shutting down, unable to register whatever was being said to him?

“Huh… what?” was all he could mutter as he tried to regain his senses.

“My name. It’s Robert.”

He took in a deep breath, blinking a few times, and looking around at nothing in particular, “O-Oh. Right.”

The man— _Robert_ —meanwhile, seemed unaffected by whatever this stifling air consuming his porch was, reaching instead for one of the cookies in front of him, “There anything in these I should know about?” Even though he asked, he wasted no time in taking a bite out of one, looking it over a bit as he chewed.

“Flour, eggs… chocolate… nothing unusual, really,” his speech sounded awful, he knew it did. It was labored, shaky, like he had just run a marathon but was trying to act like he could still hold a normal conversation. The curious look Robert shot him was certainly no help in calming these weird jitters—which is all they were, jitters, from meeting a new person. Right, a new person! Who doesn’t even know who this random, winded man giving him free food is!

“Uh. I’m Joseph! I live right next door,” he gestured, letting Robert follow his hand to look at the large, manicured home just next to them, as if it really needed to be pointed out. This was good. Just normal chatter between two normal human beings. “With my wife! And kids!” Alright, now why did he say it like that? Why did it sound so urgent? Like it needed to be put out there for everyone to hear, like _he_ needed to be reminded? He had gone through this same conversation with plenty of others before, so why was he so… flustered?

Robert finished his cookie, rubbing his hands together to brush away the crumbs while Joseph tried not to look too preoccupied with his internal monologue. “Plural?”

“Plural?”

“‘ _Kids_.’ Like more than one.”

“Oh, yeah, three.” He had never, in the all the time he’s had children—which wasn’t actually that long by count of actual years—said that with such little enthusiasm. He wanted to leave, to go home, hide under the covers until this cold he’s apparently caught dissipated. He’d cover his face in his hands right now if he didn’t think that’d make him look even worse. Maybe he should have just handed over the cookies before.

Again, Joseph was forced out of his thoughts, this time by a light chuckle courtesy of Robert. It was that breathy sort of chuckle, more a huff than anything, made more in disbelief than actual amusement. “They’re not gonna be screaming bloody murder in your backyard at six in the morning, are they?” For the first time since he had appeared, Robert smiled. If it could even be called a “smile,” Joseph wasn’t sure, but it was still something. Something that, combined with the way his eyes gleamed in the sunlight, made his heart skip a beat.

Don’t look at him. Just don’t look at him. Joseph trained his eyes down towards the ground, mirroring Robert with a laugh of his own, “No. They can’t reach the handle quite yet, so we can keep them in until a more reasonable hour. Unless you need an alarm clock?” Well, not looking lasted all of five seconds.

“I’m good.” Another smile, this one bigger and more genuine than the first. _Dammit._

Ok, so why shouldn’t he look, again? What was wrong with looking? Nothing. There was nothing wrong with looking. He looked at a lot of people. So what if that little crinkle at the corners of his warm eyes made his entire stomach turn on its axis? Stomach bugs did that. There was nothing wrong with looking at the man that was speaking to him, even if he recognized that said man was a bit more handsome than he had previously given him credit for.

Right, talking. This was a conversation. A two-way street that also meant looking was fine. So talk. “Do you… have any kids?”

Maybe talking wasn’t actually a good idea. The moment those words left his mouth, all the warmth that had filled Robert’s face ran cold. Crossing his arms over his chest and focusing his attention toward the ground, he took far too long to respond, “Yeah. She’s not really a ‘kid’ anymore, though.”

So there’s a story there, ok. Good to know. “And a missus?” It was an honest question. He didn’t see a ring on his finger, but it was the 21st century and maybe that was falling out of style. But with the way Robert gripped his arm, digging into his shirt and ducking even more into himself, Joseph couldn’t help but feel terrible for asking.

“Gone.”

Gone? Gone how? Like gone? Or _gone_? Should he ask? No. Now was definitely not the time or place. Not during a first meeting and not when Joseph was so under the weather. Reverting his eyes back to the ground again, all he could muster was a meek, “Oh. I’m… sorry.” Sorry for asking. Sorry for whatever happened. Just… sorry.

There was silence for a moment, neither of them being willing to break it. Joseph managed to keep his eyes away this time around, the fear of being physically sick firmly in his mind, until there was a weight suddenly leaving his hand. He glanced up just in time to see Robert, plate of cookies in tow, making a break for his front door, pushing it open and starting inside.

He was about to object before Robert stopped him, looking back at him from halfway into the entryway, “We had our introductions. I’m Robert. You’re Joseph. Wife. Kids. All that. These are mine now.”

“Wh—” He wasn’t wrong, technically. That _was_ the deal, but leaving on that note seemed entirely unacceptable—even if Robert didn’t seem at all phased now by the way he was looking at him. Somewhere that initial bit of confusion turned into a, “Wait,” as Joseph tried to salvage whatever was left of this mess of a meeting, “I’m a minister at a nearby church. I do counseling there sometimes, if you ever need to talk.” Ever. At all. Anytime. That last part was probably best left unsaid.

Robert looked for a minute like he was considering it, only to pop another cookie into his mouth as if to stifle what was trying to come out, “Nah. I don’t like talking.”

“That’s ok!” It really wasn’t. Joseph wanted to hear him talk. “I’ve had people come in and just sit there silent. It can be just a nice place to think.” But if he wouldn’t talk, watching was a welcome alternative.

“I can think plenty on my own.”

“Then, _‘think’_ about coming.”

Another chuckle, “All the time, sweetheart,” and a wink.

Joseph wanted to be mad—he’ll make his own damn innuendos, he didn’t need someone else doing it for him—but all that came was heat. His face, his ears, his shoulders, everywhere dotted in bright red, and he was sure he was going to faint right then and there. The laugh from Robert, that was no doubt caused by his dazed expression, did little to help stop what was about to be Joseph’s last minute standing upright at this rate. But with that, Robert closed the door behind him with a simple, “Thanks,” leaving Joseph to stare at nothing but the wood slab in front of him, half tempted to lie against it in the hopes that it would cool him down a few hundred degrees.

It took a few minutes of just standing there motionless, trying to regain his composure, before he eventually made the decision that taking up residence on someone else’s front porch did little to promote a healthy neighborly relationship. He put a hand to his forehead, rubbing it and then moving to run his fingers through his hair. He needed to get out of the sun if he had any hope of getting his fever down. That’s what this was. A fever. With that in mind, he made his way back to his own home, shutting himself inside, away from the gaze of others and the equally punishing rays of the sun.

Joseph made it only a foot into the house when he was addressed from the living room, “How’d it go?” That’s right, Mary was home.

He smiled feebly, his eyes downcast at not wanting to make eye-contact, “Fine! He took the cookies anyway, so I guess it went alright.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, a drink pressed to her lips before moving it to speak again, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his head, heaving a sigh and heading towards the stairs, “Think I might’ve caught a cold is all. I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”

Mary didn’t offer any response, choosing only to watch him with furrowed brows as he ascended the stairs, not returning to the task at hand until after she heard the door to their bedroom shut.

Upstairs, Joseph fell backwards onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, not having bothered to change into something more comfortable. He forced his eyes shut, rolling over on his side and pulling a blanket over himself in the same motion. Here, in the privacy of his own room, safely cocooned in his own sheets, he hoped this sudden illness would leave just as quickly as it came. And here, with the thought of a cold leaving the forefront of his mind, he hoped that his new neighbor—that Robert—would, at the very least, have the common decency to return his plate. Soon, perhaps. Because he really liked that plate. Which is why he gave it, willingly, to a random stranger he had never met prior with no inclination as to whether or not said person would even think to return something so seemingly insignificant. It was a nice plate.

And, in these thoughts, he hoped that his impression on Robert wasn’t actually so bad. That maybe he didn’t actually look like the sputtering idiot he certainly felt like. That maybe if he went and knocked on that _awful_ door again that he would be greeted with a smile. That maybe if he asked, Robert would graciously attend the upcoming bake sale. He seemed to like the cookies anyway, so maybe the promise of more sweets would be enough to drag him out of that house. Or maybe that was too much to ask for and that he should, instead, just make some more for the barbecue rather than force him where he’s not comfortable.

Oh. The barbecue. He forgot to mention the barbecue. Of course he forgot to mention the barbecue. He could stop by later to let him know, if he doesn’t return the plate first. Even if he does return the plate, he could stop by. As a neighbor. Who just wanted to make sure that the new guy, who was all alone in that new house of his, felt included. That was the neighborly thing to do, after all.

With that, he turned onto his stomach, burying his head into the pillows. It was so dreadfully warm.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for 300 years and I finally needed to let go of it. Sorry if anything's a bit disjointed or abrupt or what-have-you, I haven't written fic since I was like 14 and I'm still trying to get back into it. But thanks for reading, and I hope it was at least somewhat enjoyable!


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